


Wildcard

by TartKisses



Series: An engineer AU? [1]
Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - engineers, Because Pulp Fiction mention, Fluff, Hardcore flirting, Kissing, M/M, Pining, They bi, They don't inject marijuana, alcohol use, drug mention, hand holding, innuendos, strangers to ???
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-06
Updated: 2017-05-06
Packaged: 2018-10-28 17:15:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10835730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TartKisses/pseuds/TartKisses
Summary: ‘Wait! Men?’ The pitch of Rhett’s voice is slightly higher than what it usually is. ‘What about men?’Link steps back and grabs the top of his chair and leans against it, facing away from Rhett. ‘I like ‘em,’ he says, smiling and head lolling.‘… But what kinda men do you like?’





	Wildcard

**Author's Note:**

> Ableton Live - music software that the average Soundcloud and Bandcamp musician uses.  
> Rage - Rage Against the Machine. The kinda music white boys listen to if they hate capitalism.

Things didn’t always go Link’s way. Take now, for example: he’s struggling to close the bistro’s birch door as a fierce autumnal gale threatens to open it again, and he’s barely winning this invisible tug-of-war. 

Too much time spent at the office and not at the gym, he muses.

It was worth it, though. The company had recently been voted “Best New Business” by some renowned financial blog, resulting in investors coming in from left and right, pouring money into drying funds and giving them a big publicity boost.

So what better way was there to celebrate their success than shouting drinks at a back alley bar? Link had thought to himself at 2AM some nights ago while tossing and turning in bed. Maybe he’d even get to know some people for once.

A huff falls out of his mouth as he brushes dirt from his fitted leather jacket, cerulean eyes darting around the surprisingly clamorous, sparingly lit place.

What was the point of boasting your establishment as “hipster” if half of the city’s population was there? 

Leather boots move, his eyes still darting around as he tries to navigate himself through customers and employees alike, and a bout of panic bubbles in his stomach as it dawns on him that his eyes weren’t settling on anyone he knew. Had everyone forgotten? Did they not receive the event invite on Facebook? Did they, for some reason, hate his guts and decided not to turn up just to spite him?

His eyes lock onto the furthermost right corner of the bar, and his feet stop. 

There, illuminated under the glow of a red lantern, swiping at his phone, was the other chemical engineer. The taller chemical engineer. The engineer who Link had exchanged awkward eye contact with multiple times in an attempt to encourage the opposite party to initiate conversation with him because like hell was he gonna leave a table full of food just to talk with someone. 

Link removes his jacket in a not so quiet fashion as he approaches the seated man, hoping that the ruffling would catch his attention- and it does, sparkling eyes blinking upwards to meet Link’s. The man freezes a little before partly getting out of his chair.

‘Nice to meet you,’ he says, holding out his hand, and Link can sense a hint of relief playing at his voice. ‘I’m, uh, Rhett, on the third team.’

Link’s hand greets the other firmly, a smirk toying at his lips. ‘Link, and there’s no need to be formal, man! It’s a bar, not work.’

Rhett just smiles, shrugs and tugs at his beard, moving to sit on the opposite, cushioned side of the secluded table. ‘Well, we’ve never formally introduced each other, right? I can’t just say, “Hey, person whose name I don’t know!” Then high five you and sit down like that’s cool, right?’

‘Yeah, well, true, I guess,’ Link replies, gently placing his jacket beside Rhett’s discarded trench coat, which sat next to its owner on the burgundy couch. The wooden chair Rhett formally sat in squeaks against the floor as Link makes himself comfortable. ‘Though you didn’t have to shake my hand.’ He smiles at Rhett’s perplexed look. ‘Just remember that next time you go out for drinks, yeah?’

Rhett smirks. ‘Are you telling me how to socialise when you failed to organise an after work event?’ 

Ouch. A frown crosses Link’s face as he feels heat rising to his ears, stuttering on his words. ‘Y-yeah, well, I- I did make sure to invite everyone, and I gave them enough time-‘

‘Okay, so firstly,’ Rhett holds up a finger, ‘just because you’re good at being flexible with your time, doesn’t mean others are. Two days warning isn’t always enough, bud. Sorry to break it to you. Secondly,’ another finger goes up, and Link’s eyes have shifted moodily to some avant garde art on the wall, ‘half the people in the company can’t even drink.’

Link snaps back to attention. ‘What?’ 

‘You didn’t check the event page after making it, did you?’

Nights of reading A Scanner Darkly and dicking around with Ableton Live blur in Link’s mind as he feigns trying to remember if he did check it when he honestly knew he didn’t. He shoots a sheepish grin at Rhett, and Rhett shakes his head in turn.

‘Basically,’ Rhett states, ‘the entire wall of the events page either says, “I’m going to Becca’s event, sorry!” Or, “Drinking is against my religion- sorry!”’ 

Link slightly squints at this. ‘Becca’s event?’

‘Yeah, that was the third point,’ Rhett responds, nodding. 

‘Why wasn’t I invited?’

‘Have you ever spoken to her?’

‘Like, once,’ comes Link’s reply. He’s mentally reprimanding himself for letting the excuse of, “I’m new to the job, so of course it’s okay if I hardly talk to people outside work,” take hold of his social life a year after he had been hired. 

Link notices the grin flashing at him from across the table, and he glares. Okay, he gets it- he kinda, really sucks at anything to do with social gatherings these days and he wasn’t in a position to lecture Rhett on how he should socialise. But he wasn’t going to admit the former, and wasn’t going to apologise for the latter.

He continues to glare when he catches Rhett rolling his eyes at him. Rhett laughs. ‘Did I offend you? Look, if it makes you feel better-‘

‘It won’t-‘

‘I’ll pay for your dessert,’ Rhett continues, slightly exasperated. A slight pout forms on Link’s face, hand reaching for a laminated menu that has seen cleaner days. ‘You think I can be won over by food, huh?’

Rhett nods.

‘Well,’ Link’s eyes flick over the dessert section and shit they’re expensive, ‘you’re right. How much dessert though?’ 

‘As much as you can handle,’ Rhett replies. He’s already motioning to a waitress, and Link hurries to scan the rest of the menu. ‘You gotta buy something savoury first though.’

‘Deal,’ Link replies, eyes looking back to the man in front of him. The smile Rhett sends him is charming and warm, and Link finds himself smiling back before his attention is diverted towards the sound of clacking heels approaching their table. Complex orders and requests are made, and before long, the server was gone, leaving a water jug and two pink tinged drinks in her wake. 

Head resting atop his balled fist and right ring finger tracing the rim of his martini glass, Link studied the man currently downing his own drink. This wasn’t so bad. Just the two of them being there. Actually, he was grateful- he still felt a bit anxious over talking to one co-worker he barely knew, so talking to a crowd of newly acquainted co-workers? Nightmarish stuff.

As he finally picks up and downs his drink, Link silently prays the alcohol will help him loosen up a little.

‘You heard who contacted us about our new prototype?’ Rhett’s currently pouring the both of them water as he poses the question, and Link quirks an eyebrow. Work gossip? Conversations have gotta start somewhere, he supposes.

‘Who?’ Link asks.

‘Guess.’

Link shrugs, leans back in his chair, and takes a much needed sip of water. ‘Like, some government body.’

‘Yeah, pretty much.’

The groan and eye roll Link makes leaves Rhett cracking up, and he adds drily, ‘Probably the CIA disguised as representatives for the arts sector.’

‘Oh, gosh, probably,’ Rhett says in between sips of water, shifting in his seat. ‘And apparently- apparently- the boss turned them down in some sort of way.’

Link snorts. Of course she rejected them- the prototype was only partly complete and would only have a moderate success rate if the CIA were to use it for its most obvious espionage purpose. He points this out to Rhett, but Rhett shakes his head and leans onto the table. ‘Well, yeah, duh, but what happens if they were the CIA in disguise?’ Rhett’s now speaking in a hushed voice, and Link finds himself having to lean into the table too. ‘What if they’re so bent on getting the prototype that the entire office “mysteriously” goes in a fire, but the prototype isn’t found in the ashes? Or they kidnap the ones that worked on it, or-‘

‘I’d think that, if anything,’ Link interjects, voice drawling, ‘they’d just offer the ones who worked on it government positions. At least I’d like to think that, seeing as I’m one of the ones who worked on it and could do with more money.’

Rhett leans back, a powerful arm hanging on his crossed legs as he looks away from Link. The expression on his face is difficult to read. ‘If that were the case, I’d just hope I’d get to work with you,’ he mutters.

Link’s head tilts, eyes averted to the polished surface of the table, and he smiles coyly. 

Huh.

He departs to go to the bar and buy more drinks for them, making sure he tells Rhett off for his shit taste in alcohol, and when he gets back, two serves of curly fries and pulled pork tacos have materialised upon the table.

‘Here’s your disgusting ass screaming orgasm,’ Link says as he hands the white concoction across the table, grin betraying his biting words. A wry smile is Rhett’s response. ‘Have you ever had a… Uh, the drink?’ Rhett’s leaning forward, glass held loosely in his hand, and Link frowns. 

‘No.’

‘Then how do you know it tastes bad?’

Shiny fork in hand, Link stuffs some of the moderately spiced fries in his mouth. ‘The name,’ he retorts. ‘“Screaming orgasm.” How gross does that sound?’

‘Doesn’t sound as gross as you talking with your mouth full. C’mon, man, it’s not that bad.’ Rhett pauses to side eye Link’s drink, which was currently riding on the table’s edge. ‘Not as bad as an appletini.’

The fork in Link’s hand is jabbing towards Rhett and his eyes narrow as he asks, ‘What, have you ever had an appletini?’ Fidgeting and shifting eyes are Rhett’s answer, and Link’s smile couldn’t be any smugger. He places the fork down and leans his face against his hand. ‘The day I try a- that drink- is the day you try an appletini,’ he challenges, eyes gleaming.

Secretly, Link hopes Rhett takes this challenge up and does go out for drinks with him again, because he’s starting to really enjoy his company.

But Rhett’s eyes are shining brightly too. ‘Well then,’ he replies, lifting his glass back across the table, holding it near Link’s face, ‘turn that day into night, because I’ll try it right now.’

Damn it.

Link lifts his drink up and across, fingers loosely holding the glass stem, eyes locking with Rhett’s in a silent dare, and an image slowly forms at the back of his mind of him drinking out of Rhett’s glass whilst Rhett still holds it and vice versa and damn it he’s not even tipsy why does his mind gotta be like that-

Rhett sighs and snatches the appletini with his free hand, startling Link and leaving him to do the same. Hesitant looks are shared, and they both take a sip. 

Oh, Link thinks to himself, readjusting his glasses. It’s…

He takes another sip. And another. 

They both lock eyes again, silently daring the other to take their drink back, and when it’s clear that they won’t, they simultaneously tip their heads back and gulp down the rest of their drink.

‘Why,’ Rhett begins, setting his glass down upon the table, ‘did we do that? Why did we get so worked up over each other’s taste in alcohol? What was the point?’ 

There’s a pleasant buzzing feeling settling into Link’s system, and the words that fall out of his mouth come with an ease he typically doesn’t hold. ‘Isn’t it fun to push the buttons of attractive people?’ He asks, fingers toying with a curly fry.

The corners of his mouth turn upwards as he watches Rhett attempting to cover the slight flush on his cheeks by stuffing his face with a taco. 

A comfortable, brief silence settles between the two as they dedicate themselves to finally demolishing the hearty food set in front of them, communicating only in flashing glances and smiles as their minds wander elsewhere. Well, to be more accurate, Link’s mind was more so waltzing than wandering. Must be the alcohol, he concludes, taking a bite out of a fry. He silently curses how much of a lightweight he’s unexpectedly turned out to be.

Rhett’s voice cuts through the quiet. ‘You know, this… Tonight… I like it.’ He’s down to a third of a taco, and Link is impressed at his ability to eat so much so quickly. ‘I like it,’ Rhett repeats, ‘and I’d like to go out with you again.’

Link pushes his glasses up with a ring finger, blinking. ‘I was going to ask for a future rendezvous myself,’ he mumbles. ‘Like, at this really nice bar that has a lot of old pinball machines.’

The last of the taco Rhett is about to consume stops to hover in front of his smile. ‘There a Metal Gear pachinko machine in it?’

Link’s inhales sharply, suddenly focused again. The thought of this man being into the same stuff he liked? Too much. ‘Oh! I… Kinda wish? Only to see the remastered scenes.’ His gaze falls upon his biker boots, which are clicking together. ‘Konami have become such sellouts.’

He hears muffled laughter coming opposite him and his face snaps up, suddenly self-conscious. ‘You’re such a nerd,’ Rhett says, wrist covering his mouth. ‘It’s so endearing.’

A mixture of embarrassment and delight washes over Link as he sends a sheepish grin to Rhett. ‘Sorry.’

‘Don’t apologize, man! It’s cute. Though I gotta admit I don’t know anything about Metal Gear.’

Link’s brows furrow in betrayal. ‘Then how did you know I like it?’

‘You wouldn’t shut up about how pissed you were about the pachinko machine a while back at the office.’

Link frowns, and Rhett waves dismissively. ‘Anyway, this is all beside the point. A pinball bar? Sounds cool. But I was thinking of the new crow café,’ he relates.

‘… A crow café?’ 

‘Yeah, man! Crows and coffee. Petting crows and drinking coffee.’ Rhett’s head slightly tilts towards Link. ‘Unless you don’t like either?’ He questions.

It’s Link’s turn to wave his hand, but this time it’s in defence. ‘No, not at all! I’m down for this. I like crows. I just wish I knew about it earlier. But are you still cool about going to the bar? At a later date?’

‘At a later date,’ Rhett repeats, a small smile on his face.

Numbers are exchanged, food is finally cleared from the table, and soon enough, Link has revisited the bar, too impatient to wait for more drinks to arrive; he practically drifts up to Rhett with a partly drunken Alabama slammer in one hand and a mojito in the other hand.

‘You tipsy already?’ 

Link passes the mojito to Rhett, almost dumps his glass on the table, and collapses in his chair, grinning. ‘Maybe.’

Rhett blinks. ‘You do realise there’s one more drink to come, right? Plus the ones you just bought?’

‘Yeah, but this one and the next aren’t that strong.’ At least, Link hopes they’re not. He tilts his head to the side. ‘Why, you a heavyweight yourself?’

There’s no comment from Rhett’s end, and Link leans back into his chair, crosses his arms, and smirks.

He wonders what kind of drunk Rhett is.

The waitress soon arrives with their desserts and final drinks, and Link shrinks at what’s put in front of him. Even though he ordered small fries, there was no way he could stomach six doughnuts, no matter how much peanut butter and white chocolate goodness was injected into them. Damn his weakness to free expensive food. 

‘I could eat some of them if you want.’ 

Rhett’s taking a swig of his drink when Link looks back up, and his response is to narrow his eyes in warning. ‘I can and will finish them,’ Link insists, punctuating his falsely assured tone with a bite out of one of the doughnuts, and Rhett simply rolls his eyes, albeit with a smile.

He juggles between gulps of his drink and mouthfuls of doughnut, not sparing Rhett a glance in his alcohol fuelled quest to conquer the food in front of him- that is, until he reaches his third doughnut and realises he hasn’t heard the clinking of silverware coming opposite him for some moments. 

When Link looks up, he notices Rhett’s attention is trained some place above him, so he slowly cranes his head back against his chair, his gaze focusing on the poster plastered ceiling. He thrusts a pointer finger slightly behind him and hears a hum of agreement from Rhett. ‘Good film, Terminator 2,’ Rhett states. 

Link’s face is still turned upwards but he can sense Rhett’s focused back on him now. ‘Yeah,’ Link mumbles, voice dreamier than usual, ‘though I haven’t watched it in ages.’

‘Really? You look like the type to watch it religiously.’

‘… Nah, I only really watch it when I’m sick.’

Link turns back to Rhett, only to discover the bearded man is munching on a stolen doughnut, and his shoulders go slack. ‘Hey-‘

‘Do you know who my ideal woman is?’ 

Questioning hand gestures and an overall incredulous look is Link’s response towards Rhett’s thieving, but for some reason Rhett thinks he’s replying to his question. ‘Sarah Connor,’ Rhett answers. 

Link’s eyebrows raise at this and he leans in, going for the fourth doughnut. ‘So you’re into the type of woman that could German suplex you, huh?’ He grins, playfully dabbing the doughnut against Rhett’s nose and smearing icing there, and Rhett turns away, eyes scrunched up. ‘Kinky.’

‘No,’ Rhett sighs, wiping the icing off. ‘She looks like the type that could kill cockroaches for me while I run and hide in the corner.’ He looks off to the side and drains his black velvet. ‘Plus, she could German suplex me, yeah.’ 

Link bites into his doughnut and smirks. ‘Mia Wallace.’

‘Your ideal woman?’

‘Movie woman, yeah.’

This time, it’s Rhett turn to lean into the table, though he rests his face in his hands. ‘So you have a foot fetish? Kinky.’

Link chortles abruptly, then scowls. ‘No!’ He hisses. ‘The hell is wrong with you?’

‘… You’re into drugs?’

‘She’s so powerful, man!’ Link tears a bite out of his doughnut and readjusts his glasses, which go askew in his excited movement. ‘First lady of a drug cartel. A dude gets chucked out of a building for touching her feet.’

‘So a foot fetish-‘

Link stuffs Rhett’s mouth with the doughnut before he can finish his sentence and Rhett’s eyes snap shut in surprise. ‘Look, what I’m saying is- she’s dangerous. And dangerous is what I like in…’ His eyes flicker to Rhett, who was now staring at the doughnut in his left hand as he chewed. ‘Women.’

He rises, roughly pushing his chair back and rolling his shoulder a few times. ‘Men, however…’

This grabs Rhett’s attention. His eyebrows rise. ‘Oh?’

Link grabs a shot glass containing layers of alcohol that’s been sitting neglected and off to the side- he can’t remember its name, it just looks good- and downs it. ‘Gotta piss,’ he informs Rhett, wiping liquid that’s run down the side of his mouth, and as he turns, he hears an objection.

‘Wait! Men?’ The pitch of Rhett’s voice is slightly higher than what it usually is. ‘What about men?’

Link steps back and grabs the top of his chair and leans against it, facing away from Rhett. ‘I like ‘em,’ he says, smiling and head lolling.

‘… But what kinda men do you like?’ 

He turns, practically spits out, ‘Men like you,’ over his shoulder, and as he struts away to where he hopes the bathrooms are, he hears spluttering, coughing and chest thumping noises coming from his table. Anxious adrenaline bubbles over his form.

Alcohol really works wonders for flirting, he thinks to himself, and his hand pushes on the cold, black door in front of him.

As giddy as his mind is, there’s one question that’s been rebounding in Link’s head since Rhett had begun dropping hints in his direction: for how long had Rhett noticed him at the office? He thought first contact was that awkward, unofficial staring contest they had at the Christmas party, but Rhett had overheard Link ranting about Konami months before. 

The lighting in the bathroom is bright, bouncing off every white and light grey wall and tile, hiding the slight dark circles that rest under Link’s slightly red, but otherwise lively eyes. Shaking his head and mouthing a curse at his reflection, he turns his wrist, stopping the rush of water from the faucet.

Had they interacted previously? Is that why he felt some hazy attachment to this man? Link dives deep into the chasms of his mind, trying to recall, but he’s drowning in his intoxication.

He resurfaces to the vapour riddled, hipster dominated world he came from with a slight stagger, making his way back down to his table. 

-

When Link arrives at his destination, he finds Rhett’s gaze fixated on his last drink, which was now half empty. Though his eyes are downcast and Link is a few metres away from him, Link swears they’re glossier than when he left them. 

‘Heyyy,’ Link drawls, and he almost goes to sit in his chair, but a more mischievous part of his mind, awakened by the alcohol muddled in his blood, makes him pivot on his heels to face Rhett’s couch.

‘My chair’s kinda uncomfy,’ he lies, moving to rest against the plush wall, ‘so I’mma sit here, mkay?’ Finger guns and clicks of the tongue accompany his explanation, and Rhett’s eyes flick upwards.

There’s no verbal response from him, however. He just sits and stares at Link with glassy eyes and rests his head against his hand.

The finger guns falter, his hands lowering, and a nervous smile flashes across Link’s face. He’s totally, absolutely ignoring the regret of blurting out that he likes men that’s speeding through his mind.

‘Is… Is there somethin’-‘

‘You play the piano?’

Rhett’s eyes have moved down to Link’s now hovering, hesitant hands, and Link goes to look at them himself. How, exactly, did his hands have anything to do with being a pianist? He turns them, palms now facing upwards as he tries to put two and two together, but his alcohol clouded mind just won’t do the math. ‘Uh, nah?’

Rhett casts a doubtful look on Link. ‘You sure?’ 

‘… Yeah?’ Link’s beginning to doubt himself now.

In a swift movement, Rhett’s hands have grabbed Link’s, holding them closer to his face than needs be as his eyes scrutinize them. Link slightly jumps, heart floundering. ‘What a waste,’ Rhett sighs, gently turning Link’s hands from side to side.

Link blinks hard. ‘What? Why?’

Slightly lowering their hands, Rhett’s wraps his thumbs and pointer fingers around Link’s knuckles. ‘Your fingers are lean,’ he explains, his fingers running down the length of Link’s hand, skin brushing against skin, ‘so you probably wouldn’t stumble on hitting the wrong key so often.’ Rhett’s fingers meet the end of Link’s, and he raises an eyebrow. ‘Oh. But you’re a guitarist.’

How did he know that?

‘Bassist,’ Link clarifies. 

‘Oh?’ The base of their palms connect as Rhett presses his fingertips against Link’s own, and Link feels the slight callouses on the end of Rhett’s fingers. So that’s how he could tell, Link muses. ‘You play the guitar too,’ he speaks softly, and Rhett nods. 

‘Used to play in a band. We all listened to Primus and Rage and thought we’d be cool shit if we played funk metal after it pretty much died. But, like I said, the scene was dead, so our dreams of becoming popular died too. Now I just lend my skills to my friend whenever he makes his yearly EP.’ Rhett’s fingertips had been spacing out Link’s whilst he spoke, and the bottoms of their palms no longer touched. 

There was a slight pause. ‘Do you play in a band, Link?’ Rhett asks, and Link forces himself to cut through the dull ache invading his mind, shaking his head no. ‘I see. A bassist, though? Didn’t expect that. With all your talk about jazz I somehow expected you to be a drummer.’

He knows too much about you, hisses a voice in Link’s mind. 

Rhett intertwines their fingers loosely, and Link is trying to ignore the heat prickling at his cheeks. He continues, ‘I guess I took that for granted in my mind? Because I would watch the way you typed on the keyboard- gosh, you’re fast- and I would think, “Damn it, he’d make a way better pianist!” I mean, does typing even indicate whether or not someone would make a good pianist?’ 

Link’s eyes, which have been transfixed with his and Rhett’s dancing hands, slowly draw back up to Rhett’s face, and he finds Rhett’s face dangerously close to his. His jaw goes slack. 

The look Rhett is giving him is heated, eyes steely and all. ‘One of the first things I noticed about you were your hands,’ he informs Link. He then snorts a laugh and looks to the side briefly. ‘I mean, that’s gotta sound weird. But the way you use your hands with… Everything. It’s fascinating.’ He looks back at Link. ‘They’re beautiful.’ Link feels him squeeze their hands together, and he squeezes back, trying to steady himself from how giddy he is, from Rhett, from the alcohol, from everything.

‘Hey.’ Rhett’s voice is unusually timid now, and Link hears his breath slightly catching at the back of his throat. ‘M-May I…’ But he doesn’t even bother to finish his sentence, delicately picking up Link’s left hand with his right and kissing Link’s middle finger. A fiery blush lights up Link’s face and he quickly goes to cover it with his free hand, his eyes going wide.

How many times was Rhett going to kill him with sappiness? How many times was he going to revive because of said sappiness?

Another kiss is placed on Link’s ring finger, Rhett’s beard lightly scratching the skin there. ‘Do you,’ kiss, ‘have any idea,’ kiss, ‘how beautiful you are?’ Another kiss is placed on the back of Link’s hand, and he opens his mouth, wanting to say something, but instead he yelps as Rhett suddenly, tightly grasps his kiss covered hand. A heartbeat later, he finds Rhett almost bumping noses with him, their breaths barely mingling with one another’s. 

‘No, Link, I’m serious,’ Rhett barely mumbles. ‘When was the last time someone told you that you’re beautiful?’

Link’s mind is blank. Even whilst sober, he wouldn’t be able to remember what he had for breakfast, so how was he supposed to recall the last time someone had hit on him?

He snaps back to reality when he feels their noses touch, and his eyes flutter. ‘Who failed you like this?’ Rhett is squinting at him as he speaks. ‘I’ll kick their ass. I’ll kick multiple asses if I have to-’

Rhett’s too close, too sweet, too intense, and Link’s face is like an inferno and god almighty he just wants the man to shut up already.

‘… Wait, did I fail you? I’ll kick my own ass-‘

Link’s soft kiss against the corner of Rhett’s mouth contradicts the firm way he grabs and tilts Rhett’s jaw downwards. He holds it, eyes slipping shut as he savours the lack of noise coming from the bearded man.

Now he’s this close, he can smell a bit of alcohol lingering from the night’s drinking, but there’s also something earthy there, something warm and evergreen. Fascinating. He smiles, slightly lifting his lips to mumble against Rhett’s.

‘… Rhett?’

No answer. Tilting Rhett’s head towards the side, he plants another kiss on the man’s cheek, and he can sense the skin there is lightly flushed, judging by the heat that’s radiating from it.

‘Hey, Rhett?’

An acknowledging hum is heard and Link’s eyes flutter open, finding glazed teal orbs tinged with mild surprise trained on him. 

‘Why me?’ 

Rhett’s brows quirk upwards in question, and Link adds, ‘As in, why do you like me so much?’ Considering literally everyone else in the office also had good looks running for them, Link was stunned that he’s been singled out. He’s clumsily shifting back a bit, hand gripping Rhett’s knee as his eyes narrow inquisitively. ‘And howww do you know I like jazz? Whooo told you that?’

Rhett smirks. ‘Well, as for your second and third questions, there’s a cooler behind your desk, and I like keeping hydrated, so I visit it semi-regularly.’ Rhett grabs his glass and downs the rest of his drink. ‘I mean, you’ve probably seen me there,’ he speaks, and a tall silhouette clutching a plastic cup surfaces in a corner of Link’s mind.

Link faintly nods. It’s taking a lot of willpower to make sure his words don’t come out jumbled. ‘So you stalk me from the safety of the water cooler?’

‘I don’t sta-‘ Rhett’s look is dubious, eyes downcast as he strokes his beard. ‘Well, I eavesdrop, sometimes. On your rants with the boss. Something about this year’s jazz festival being cancelled?’

Link was still bitter over that.

‘You know,’ Rhett mumbles, attention back to Link, ‘when you arrived at the company, I always thought you just bought coffee for her because you’re a suck up, so I didn’t think much of you. I mean, I think some of the guys still think you’re a suck up to her.’

Link tries to pretend that this doesn’t sting, but he finds himself clutching at his heart anyway and Rhett laughing at his reaction. Rhett follows on, ‘One day, like, weeks after you came to the office, my back was giving me shit.’ Another silhouette appears in Link’s mind, though this one is more defined; a bearded man is sitting as his desk, slightly leaning forwards as his hand clutches his lower back. Rhett sends an expectant look at Link, an eyebrow raised. ‘You remember that day, right?’

The fog shrouding Link’s mind swirls, and what materialises from it is an image of him standing by Rhett’s desk, giving the seated man dark chocolate truffles and telling him to seek painkillers and a medical professional. He raises his hand to his forehead. Various things have been cursed by him that day, and now he damns his memory for forgetting that moment, too. 

‘You know, that moment made me realise that you weren’t being a suck up to the boss,’ Rhett reveals, scratching his head with a sheepish smile. ‘You just genuinely care about her.’

Pressed against the cushioned wall, Link blinks owlishly. ‘Duuuh. She always looks tired. And if the higher ups go to shit, so will I, and I need order in my life.’ 

Rhett’s smile grows, and he looks off into the distance, resting his chin on his hand. ‘I… After that moment, I wanted to get to know you better. I tried to at the Christmas party, but…’

‘Gosh, that staring contest,’ Link breathes, and Rhett giggles. ‘I thought you wanted to fight me. So is that the real reason why you came tonight? To talk? With me?’

Smirking, Rhett rolls his eyes a little. ‘Well, it was more so the fact that I felt bad that no one else was coming, but sure.’

Link bites his cheek, trying to stop the corners of his mouth curling upwards. ‘I hate you,’ he grumbles, words laced with a faux bitterness that gets Rhett nodding and smiling doubtfully, and Link, in turn, smiles too, shimmying up closer to Rhett’s face. Grabbing Rhett’s shirt collar, he repeats, ‘No, I hate you,’ his smile unwavering, and he plants a hard kiss against Rhett’s lips.

Though a shocked, muffled noise is Rhett’s initial response to his third kiss that night, he very quickly melts into it, reciprocating with a tenderness that forces Link to lay off the fierceness in his kiss. Their heads shift, Rhett’s hands have snuck up on Link’s shoulders, and Link breaks the kiss, his head spinning. Inhaling, he blinks at the man that’s centimetres away from his face. ‘I’m glad we got to talk tonight,’ he mumbles. He pauses, shyness starting to overtake his boldness, but forces himself to lean back into Rhett’s face. ‘I’m glad that it lead to this-‘

Their lips have almost reunited when Link hears an unnecessarily loud whistle sound from his pocket. Cringing and frowning, they pull away as Link hurries to dig his phone from the crevasses of his jean pocket. ‘Can’t believe I didn’t set it to vibrate,’ he mutters, feeling the sharp stares of strangers pierce him, and he rushes to unlock his phone.

Rhett has placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it sympathetically as he looks onto the slightly dim screen. ‘You got a message?’

‘Ummm, yeah…’ Link pulls up the text, angling himself so Rhett’s can get a better look; before he can even process the first few words, Rhett’s reading the important parts aloud.

‘“… Gale force wind warning… From 1am Saturday to 9pm Sunday...” Jeez, you’d think they would’ve sent this earlier.’ Link’s eyes move to Rhett, who held mild distaste in his features. ‘I mean, have they seen how windy it is outside?’

Images of getting hit in the face by almost dead leaves countless times as he walked to this secluded bistro pass by Link’s mind.

‘Wait,’ Link speaks, eyes glancing at the top of his phone screen, ‘it’s 11:51 already. Gosh. Such a long day and it’s gone by so fast.’

‘We should probably get going.’ Rhett has turned to wave at a server, and Link notices some other patrons talking amongst themselves and looking ready to go too. His heart is sinking- he really wants to spend more time with this cute shithead- but he also doesn’t want his body to lose to the likes of some invisible force. Grabbing at the neglected doughnut on the table and taking a bite out of it, Link finally returns an, ‘Alright,’ and Rhett flashes a grin at him. ‘We’ll meet up another time, okay? Crow café, okay?’

Link’s smile is small. ‘Okay.’

The price of the bill has Link groaning through a mouthful of doughnut and Rhett smiling at his misery. Damned hipsters and their tasty, overpriced food, Link’s mind cries out, and he joins Rhett in reluctantly fishing out a wallet that’s about to slim down. 

‘How’d you arrive here?’

Link’s eyes follow Rhett as he rises from their seating, slipping on his trench coat as he does so. ‘By train,’ he replies.

Rhett turns, sticks an arm out, and Link is simultaneously latching onto his wrist with one hand and grabbing his own leather jacket with his other hand, his hip bumping against the table’s edge painfully as he rises. ‘I’m gonna get an Uber for you,’ Rhett states firmly, taking out his phone, ‘and I’ll pay for your ride.’

‘I- well, thanks, I guess.’ Usually he’d initially deny such an offer, as per the unwritten rules of accepting kindness, but Link’s not in the mood to act modest. He looks towards Rhett in sudden concern. ‘But what about you? How’d you get here?’

Turns out Rhett arrived nearby via bus, and intends on getting back via bus. The gaze he sends Link when he looks up from his screen is soft. ‘Don’t worry, I can handle myself,’ he reassures. 

Link quirks an eyebrow. ‘Unlike me?’ 

‘Unlike you, yeah.’

Link bites his lip, reaches to lightly shove Rhett with an arm, but his body trips in the process and he feels an arm wrapping around his frame.

‘That was cute,’ Rhett whispers. ‘You want me to help you get in your jacket too?’

Again, Link’s face is on fire, wanting nothing more than to poke one of Rhett’s eyes out as he eventually turns around and hands Rhett the jacket. He huffs at the chuckling he hears behind him. 

‘You know, tonight…’ Link pauses mid-sentence to watch Rhett click a shoulder fastener in place, which had somehow came undone during the night. ‘Tonight was a ride. And I’m glad it was.’

‘Oh?’

Link smiles. ‘Because,’ he gestures between the two of them, ‘this happened, and, well, it’s pretty incredible.’

The corners of Rhett’s mouth twitch upwards, and he goes to tightly interlock their arms. ‘Reinforcement in case the wind tries to bowl us over,’ he clarifies, the pair moving to head towards the exit. ‘I’m glad tonight happened too. Just…’ His eyes, glittering as always, focus on Link. ‘Make sure this doesn’t go to waste. I don’t want this to become some sort of emotional one-night stand.’

‘Of course.’ Link’s glancing at the art that adorns the spray painted walls they pass, the lines and figures upon the canvas fuzzy. His eyebrows knit together. ‘Hey, wouldn’t it be safer and, uh, warmer to wait in here?’

‘Well, the driver isn’t that far off,’ Rhett tells him. They arrive at the weighted door that divides their red tinged, smoke saturated world from the darker world outside, and Link places his free hand on the cool metal of the door handle. ‘And I… kinda wanted an excuse to hold you close and keep you warm. Unless you have an objection to that?’ 

Pushing down the handle, Link answers Rhett’s questioning stare with a smile and a shake of the head, and they exit into the alleyway, laughing, grinning, and yelling at the wind that whips their moonlit forms.

**Author's Note:**

> *Rhett voice* You ever had a screaming orgasm, Link
> 
> Anyway I hope nya'll'd've enjoyed it because Idk if I did ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


End file.
